


Deep Rock Love

by lucybeetle



Category: Kamen Rider Ghost
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Crack, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucybeetle/pseuds/lucybeetle
Summary: Sequel to "Beat Rock Love."Almost a year after their wedding, Makoto and Alan wish for happy ever after together; but fate may have other ideas.





	1. I'm Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guava/gifts).



> The promised sequel begins! Here it is! Although the first chapter isn't great, I'm proud of finally finishing it after several months of writer's block.
> 
> Dedicated, as is its predecessor, to guava. With many thanks to her for providing plot ideas and the chapter outline.

Nothing in Makoto’s life was ever easy.

He’d woken up with a slight headache, and “bed hair”; he looked like he’d spent the last eight hours plugged into the main electrical supply. It gave him the ominous impression that luck was not exactly going to be on his side today. Alan had woken up first as usual and was nowhere to be seen – likely jogging, or working on his music. Makoto took two painkillers from his bedside table and couldn’t quite face getting up yet, so he picked up his tablet, planning to check his email and schedule for the day ahead.

He and Alan maintained a Google alert that would notify them whenever their names were mentioned in the media. Most of these were references to Alan in connection with his father. Today was no different, but Makoto was surprised to see that one of the notifications linked to the home page of Danton – a well-known conspiracy theorist, who wore a turban with a fake ruby in it, and claimed the world was being run by a clone army under the control of a cabal of aliens. Makoto clicked through just to see what the article was. If nothing else, he could do with a laugh.

After several paragraphs about how aliens were in charge of the entire US entertainment industry, Danton had written: _I am confident that an exhumation of the late Michael Jackson’s body will confirm that he was indeed an alien clone. But of course, that’s not going to happen, because the aliens in power don’t want us to know about it. Don’t laugh; many of Japan’s musical stars are also clones. Fukami Makoto, from the boy band “ATM” who had a recent hit song, is a clone created with technology first devised by me. In essence, I am his father. (It is well known that his bandmate, Alan de Ganma, is the son of Adonis de Ganma who funds most of the USA’s annual chemtrail emissions. My daughter Chloe would like me to note here that she thinks the third band member, Tenkuuji Takeru, is “a hottie.”)_

Makoto felt a bony chin digging into him. He jolted as he realised that Alan had come up behind him and was reading the website over Makoto’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” said Alan, immaculate and groomed even at this hour.

“What are we gonna do about this?” Makoto indicated the tablet, “I don’t want Danton posting this stuff about me.”

“Why not? Being an alien would be cool,” said Alan. He began singing, a new tune he had apparently composed himself on the spot, “ _He came down from outer space. He was sexy with a beautiful face. He’d come to save the human race. His name was Alan the Alien.”_

“He said I’m a clone. Not an alien.”

“Don’t worry about it. My father’s lawyers will send him threatening letters until he takes it down,” said Alan. “Shouldn’t you be getting up? We have to go over to the temple soon.”

***

Akari was preparing to return to work, having celebrated the birth of her second daughter six months previously. Today, Onari and Takeru were hosting a party for the end of her maternity leave, and Makoto, Alan and Kanon had agreed to go over to the temple to help out. Onari had made no secret of the fact that he would have liked Akari to stay at home longer; but she was resolved to go back to work.

“It will be _nice_ to get out of the house,” she said. “Anyway, I want Igor out of my office.”

Onari brought her a cup of tea, holding out his arms for the baby so that Akari could safely drink the hot liquid without fear of scalding their child. “Yurusen is at a critical stage of her development. Do you not think she would benefit from her mother’s continued presence at home until she is at least a year old?”

“We’ve been over this. We can’t afford it. Besides, Arisa was the same age when I went back to work, and it hasn’t done her any harm,” said Akari.

Akari and Onari’s elder daughter chose this moment to charge through the room, chasing after Cubi, “I’M GONNA SHOOT YOU WITH A BIG LASER GUN!” she yelled, pointing her fingers at her brother in imitation of a weapon.

Makoto and Alan looked at each other, then at Kanon.

“Onii-chan, shall we get started on the food?” she said. They eagerly took the excuse to follow her into the kitchen.

The menu was fairly simple, and would be supplemented with takoyaki courtesy of Fumi-baa and Harumi, who had been invited as guests. The Fukamis and Alan were discussing how to divide kitchen duties when Takeru arrived, “Hey! Looking forward to the party?”

“Takeru!” Kanon rushed over to give him a hug, and he returned it eagerly. Makoto still was not used to seeing them as a couple. Takeru was his closest friend, and Makoto couldn’t think of anyone he would trust more with his sister; but, if he were really being honest, he would rather Kanon not marry at all. Her recent engagement to Takeru stirred uncomfortable feelings in Makoto’s stomach whenever he thought about it.

“Of course. A baby shower is always a joyous occasion,” said Alan.

 “I don’t think it’s a baby shower. You don’t really have those with a second baby … or six months after they’re born,” said Takeru. He smiled, “It’s for the end of Akari’s maternity leave. She’s looking forward to going back to work.”

Alan pouted slightly at that. Makoto suspected that Alan couldn’t imagine how Akari enjoyed a job whose benefits package did not include a daily ration of takoyaki, as was the case at the business the de Ganma family owned.

“We should really start on the stew,” said Makoto, with a glance at the clock.

“You don’t mind?” said Takeru. “I should give Narita and Shibuya a hand. I’ll be back in a little while.” He kissed Kanon’s cheek and left. 

Makoto was chopping vegetables with Kanon when she casually said “Onii-chan … I’d like to invite Dad to the wedding.”

“Dad? You mean Danton?” said Alan. Makoto glowered at him.

“Who?” Kanon blinked. Makoto opened his mouth to speak, and she hastily added “I _know_ Dad’s let us down. Especially you. But … it’s my _wedding_. I need him to be there.”

“It’s supposed to be a special day. If you invite him, he’ll never show up. Then you’ll just get sad on the day and cry. Is that really what you want your wedding to be like?” said Makoto.

“He might come!” said Kanon.

“When has Dad ever kept a promise to us?” said Makoto. “I wouldn’t have trusted him to show up at _my_ wedding even if I wanted him there.”

“Well, I do want him! He’s our father! I don’t ...” She bit her lip, apparently trying to choose her next words carefully, “I don’t want this to be like your wedding when Adel couldn’t come.”

“That was different,” said Makoto at once, looking over at Alan. Alan was obviously upset by the mention of his brother; yet they’d discussed the situation prior to their wedding, and he had agreed with Makoto that it wouldn’t be appropriate for Adel to attend.

Kanon’s shoulders slumped. “All right. I won’t invite Dad,” she said.

“You can do what you want,” said Makoto. “It’s your and Takeru’s wedding. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if Dad doesn’t bother to show up.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Kanon; and returned to peeling carrots with a vigour.

She was sniffling away into the bubbling pot, and Makoto was wondering what he could say that wouldn’t make her feel worse, when Takeru came in. He waved cheerily, but stopped when he saw Kanon, and rushed to her side.

“Oh, are you chopping onions?” he said. At the sight of her miserable expression he gave her a quick hug, then took her hand, examining her for injuries – “Did you cut yourself?”

Makoto felt an irrational wave of annoyance cross him. Takeru was naturally the most loving person Makoto knew. He cared deeply about the people around him; and was also Kanon’s fiancé. It was natural for him to hug her and show concern for her welfare but, all the same, Makoto didn’t like it.

Could he be, after all, a - _siscon_? Makoto dismissed that thought at once, barely suppressing a shudder.

“She’s not injured,” he said, because he really would appreciate it right about now if Takeru let go of Makoto’s sister. “Kanon … I’m sorry. It’s your wedding, and Takeru’s. If you really want to invite Dad, you should.”

“Really?” Kanon’s face brightened, and she threw her arms around Makoto. He stumbled backwards but managed to catch her and hold them both up.

“Dad?” said Takeru. “Your actual dad?”

“Yes. His birth father. Although he also has your father, and Danton. I know it’s confusing. Makoto has a lot of fathers,” said Alan.

“Thank you so much, onii-chan. I’ll call him this evening,” said Kanon.

“Call him? You still have his number?” said Makoto.

Takeru looked back and forth between the Fukami siblings, and quickly said “Group hug!” He reached out his arms to draw Makoto and Kanon close to his chest, “Come on, Alan!”

Being squished between his sister, husband and best friend was not the most comfortable situation to be in; but Makoto knew he was lucky to have them. He might even be able to accept his father’s presence for just one day – if his father showed up at all. What was the worst that could happen?

***

The party was not exactly going in full swing. Onari was playing some music and dancing by himself in the middle of the floor; Narita and Shibuya were handing out snacks. A small area was set up as a stage, with a microphone and space for a guitar, so that ATM could give a song or two later in the evening. It was looking less and less likely that anyone would bother to stay. Akari, the woman of the hour, was sitting in a corner trying to juggle her baby in one hand and smartphone in the other.

“Akari-kun, won’t you come and enjoy yourself? I can take care of Yurusen,” said Onari.

“Just a minute,” she said, eyes still focused on the screen of her phone.

Onari drew near to her and said in a wonderful stage whisper, loud enough to be heard by Makoto and everyone else nearby, “It is very rude to pay attention to your phone instead of our guests.”

“I’m going through my work emails,” said Akari, with an expression that could have sent a mugger screaming home to their granny.

“You are not due back at work for another week. You do not need to check your emails whilst you are on leave.”

“I have to get Igor out of my office. I keep asking when he’s going to leave, and he won’t give me a straight answer,” said Akari. 

“Who’s Igor?” Makoto asked Takeru quietly.

“Oh. The guy who’s filling in for her while she’s on maternity leave,” said Takeru. He smiled, “She thinks he’s out to take over her job permanently. I guess it’s just baby stress.”

“Right,” said Makoto, who had never in his life had an office job and was thankfully ignorant of workplace politics.

“You can surely take one evening to enjoy yourself with your family and friends. There is so little time before you return to work,” said Onari.

“If I even HAVE a job to go back to! All Mr Bills can talk about in his emails is how great Igor is!”

As Akari and Onari’s argument increased in volume, Alan wandered over to Makoto and said “I think it is time for us to liven up the party.”

“Just leave them to it,” said Makoto, who knew Akari better than to get on the wrong side of her when she was angry.

“We were supposed to perform some music. And I have the perfect song,” said Alan.

“Wait –” said Makoto, reaching out to pull Alan back. It was too late.

Alan went over to switch on the microphone; causing a loud static screech that startled everyone. Satisfied that their attention was now on him, he said “I have written a new song that I would like you all to hear. I think it is perfect for the occasion.” Unaccompanied, Alan began to sing: “ _He came down from outer space. He was sexy with a beautiful face. He’d come to save the human race. His name was Alan the Alien._ ”

Makoto glanced around at the assembled guests. Fumi-baa was rapt as she watched Alan, her mouth open in a dazed smile (though Makoto could not be 100% sure whether she understood the lyrics.) Onari had his hands clasped together and looked as if he might be about to cry. Everyone else’s expressions suggested they were as bemused as Makoto himself. Akari’s expression was difficult to read, but Makoto was wary of her.

“Alan,” he said, loudly enough to be heard but not to disrupt the guests. He began making his way over to his husband.

_“Alan came down from the sky. Maybe we will never know why. His spaceship was floating around up high. His name was Alan the Alien.”_

The corners of Akari’s lips twitched.

Makoto stepped forward to join Alan at the microphone. Making up lyrics on the hoof wasn’t his strongest skill, but he had to at least try to come up with something that was relevant to the occasion and not about how perfect Alan was. “ _He came across a baby girl. Her name was Yurusen. Just like him she was new to the world. He thought he might have seen her before, but he didn’t know when.”_

“That does _not_ fit the rhythmic or lyrical structure of my song,” said Alan as an aside to Makoto. “ _Alan was beautiful. Alan was fun. He brought love and joy to everyone …_ ”

“ _He celebrated Yurusen’s birth. It made him happy he came to earth. Alan the Aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiien,”_ Makoto joined in.

He was already beginning to run out of lyrics, but thankfully it wasn’t too much longer before Alan brought the song to a close. The audience reaction hadn’t changed much, although Fumi-baa was now in tears and being supported by Harumi. Akari was smiling, which was probably the most important thing. Alan gave a little bow before going over to see her.

“I hope you enjoyed my song about the beautiful, sexy alien,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Akari. It was still plain to Makoto that she had no idea what was going on. Perhaps she was just glad for a distraction from her workplace woes, “It was … great. Thank you. Right, Yurusen?” Akari smiled as her baby gurgled in response.

Alan smirked at Makoto before heading across to catch up with Fumi-baa. Makoto sighed. Now, he was sure to never hear the end of it.

“Come on, onii-chan! Dance with me!” Kanon called out. Takeru had put some music on and now she and several others were getting up to dance.

Makoto obliged, if for no other reason than that at least it was distracting people from asking about the song.

***

Alan waited until they had got through the front door, and Makoto had taken his shoes and coat off and was preparing to go to bed; then said “Aren’t you going to give me a kiss for saving the party?”

“I helped,” said Makoto, but obliged with a kiss anyway. At least it kept Alan quiet, and Alan _did_ have very soft lips.

Alan hadn’t shown a whole lot of restraint during the party, and he carried this over into their kisses, which rapidly became more intense; Alan’s little hands reaching to undo Makoto’s clothing. Makoto hesitated a moment before deciding he was perfectly happy with this. He could do with the stress relief, and with their careers becoming busier, it was probably important to make time to be intimate together. Alan regularly insisted on reading aloud magazine articles about the value of sex in marriage, or that advocated new, sometimes bizarre activities for him to try in bed with Makoto.

Makoto was inexplicably tired after the party, probably from mental exhaustion, so wasn’t up for anything too vigorous. When Alan drew Makoto down beside him and wrapped a hand around both their dicks, it was just about the perfect end to Makoto’s day. They both finished fairly quickly and lay together until their breathing returned to its normal rate; then Alan snuggled up to Makoto’s chest. This was so cute that Makoto had to let him stay there, despite still feeling a little hot and sticky.

“By the way, we are having a meeting with my father tomorrow to discuss our next single release. I’m going to recommend ‘Alan the Alien,’” said Alan.

Makoto was determined to veto that. It was bad enough their first single had been about how gorgeous and perfect Alan was, without turning ATM into a one-trick pony. Luckily, Adonis was almost certain to agree with him. They had plenty of material that better showcased their variety as a group. His mind turned briefly to “Wonderland”, the song he had written in honour of his love for Alan.

Alan got up after a moment to shower and begin his night-time skincare routine. Makoto watched him for a moment, trying to pinpoint exactly _why_ the alien song gave him a feeling of dread that he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the song being yet another ode to Alan’s self-professed perfection. There was something more to it. It ought to feel right, that they had been so in sync during their duet.

So why was it that during their performances, Makoto had begun to feel like he was playing the role of Alan’s Specter again?


	2. Set Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Makoto is disheartened by online criticism, Alan tries to lift his spirits - and his dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, but glad it's finally out! I find it difficult to write sex scenes.
> 
> While this fic won't be a full crossover, characters from other tokusatsu series will make guest appearances as they did in the first fic.

Makoto had developed a bad habit of scouring the internet for articles about himself.

He blamed the Google alerts; which came up at any mention of his, Alan's or Takeru's name in the press, or of ATM. He didn't technically have to look at them, which was the job of ATM's PR and legal teams, but recently he'd become increasingly concerned about his public image. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that ATM wasn't exactly competing on the same playing field as young idol boy bands anyway, and that if the band ended tomorrow, they all had their own successful careers to go back to. All the same, he couldn't get out of the habit. But ATM was Takeru's baby, and Alan's; Makoto wasn't prepared to let it go down without a fight. He was therefore less than pleased to log in and find his name coming up again on Danton's website. 

_Further to exclusively revealing that Fukami Makoto of the boy band ATM is an alien clone, I can also confirm that author Fukuide Kei is the biological son of Fukami and the idol "Jugglus Juggler" (which, although an alias, would be a common and acceptable name on his home planet.) While Fukuide claims to be older than both Fukami and Juggler, this is due to advanced aging; in reality he was created in a laboratory less than ten years ago, using DNA taken from both men. Fukuide is known for bizarre behaviours such as closing his eyes during meetings, claiming that he is communing with the great god of space. He takes refuge in audacity, knowing that he can freely tell the truth and the sheeple of earth will never believe him. (For the sake of balance, I quote his editor: "I didn't say that. I'm sure sensei was just playing around. Wait, who did you say you are again?")_

Makoto knew of Jugglus Juggler. They'd never met, but Juggler modelled for magazines and commercials, and had worked with Alan once or twice before. Juggler was an attractive guy but wouldn't have been Makoto's type even if Makoto were single. Fukuide Kei was the bestselling author of a number of sci-fi novels which Makoto had never read. He vaguely remembered seeing one or two mentions on gossip sites of the author's eccentric behaviour, but hadn't paid it any attention at the time. Makoto made a mental note to have Alan ask the de Ganma family's legal team to contact Danton again. Clearly, a threatening letter or two was not doing the trick. 

He browsed through a couple of mentions of Alan in relation to his father's company, and a TV guide referencing the fact that the time slot Takeru's cookery show had once occupied would be given to another show for the forthcoming season. The last remaining article was a lifestyle magazine's section about "Watch this space: The bands you'll be singing along to this time next year." Makoto skimmed over it.

_ATM: This idol unit isn't just an embarrassing internet meme any more. They've reunited ten years on, with a limited-run tour and an album release planned. Skip the pretentious and emo "Wonderland" -_   _but we_ _love their first single "Poutylicious": an audacious, authentic anthem for the selfie generation. We hope they can follow it up with another hit!_

Makoto thought of his favourite review of "Wonderland". It was in a music magazine called _Off-Beat_ , in an article by someone identified as JK, who had given a brief opinion of each track in ATM's set for the tour. He'd summarised "Wonderland" with a single word: _"Deep."_ Makoto liked JK. He'd thought before of asking Alan to get his father to offer the guy a job as ATM's publicist.

He shut his computer down and went to the gym, deciding that a workout might be just the thing to get him over his slump. Three hours later, his muscles ached and he was somewhat refreshed from the showers; yet the words _"emo"_ and _"pretentious"_ still echoed inside his brain, like the motivational '80s power ballads that played on repeat inside the gym.

Alan was sitting at the table, working at his laptop, when Makoto got home. His beautiful face lit up at the sight of Makoto; only for his expression to fall, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Makoto. 

"I see," said Alan, and calmly returned to his work. 

They had known each other for long enough, even before falling in love, that Alan was well aware this was one of the fastest ways to get to Makoto: politely humouring him as if he were a small child. Despite Makoto's best efforts not to let it affect him, he couldn't stop himself from blurting out "I'm kinda upset about something I read online."

"I keep telling you not to vanity Google," said Alan. "And once again you chose to disregard my advice."

"'Vanity Google?'" That was a new one to Makoto. 

"When you keep Googling for your name or ATM and then getting upset every time someone writes something you don't like," said Alan. "What was it this time? 2ch calling you a grandpa again?"

"Did they?" 

Alan shrugged.

"It was a bad review of our music. OK?" said Makoto.

"It must be a little more than that. People spent _ten years_ making fun of our first single. That didn't seem to worry you too much," said Alan.

"Only because we broke up right after it was released."

"You must develop a thicker skin. You can't be in a creative industry without encountering criticism."

Makoto sighed. "It was someone saying 'Wonderland' is pretentious and emo. I'm overreacting. Forget it." 

"It's not emo," said Alan, and blinked, "It's heartfelt. You wrote it about our love. That is a precious thing."

Makoto kept quiet, still feeling bitter.

"Why don't we spend some time together?" said Alan, closing his laptop and getting up from the table.

"OK," Makoto mumbled. He wasn't sure whether Alan's presence would help or hinder; given that one of the reasons the criticism of the song had upset him so much was because he had written it with his feelings for Alan in mind. All the same, Alan was good at distracting him - although usually by causing some form of chaos which demanded all Makoto's attention in order to resolve it. 

"Let's watch something," said Alan.

Makoto didn't mind sitting through Kanon's favourite romance dramas with her. He'd got used to her taste over the years, and was pretty good now at guessing what elaborate plot contrivances would keep the designated couple apart until the ending of the story. But Alan usually enjoyed reality TV or weird foreign shows that Makoto simply couldn't bring himself to sit through, "I don't know if I'm up for that."

"Of course you are," said Alan. He opened his laptop again and brought up an all too recognisable website. 

"You can't just do that," said Makoto flatly. It wouldn't be the first time he and Alan had watched porn together. They did so occasionally; Makoto wasn't a huge fan of it, and worried sometimes that by watching or paying for porn he was contributing to the exploitation of performers. But under the right circumstances it could help him and Alan get in the mood. Neither of them enjoyed the blatantly staged stuff, and while Alan tended to have some slightly "colourful" turn-ons, they could usually compromise.

"Of course I can. It is legal. In fact, I chose this site specifically for you. It is amateur porn made by real couples, for other real couples like us. They are celebrating their imperfect bodies and imperfect sex," said Alan.

"I think your body is perfect," said Makoto absent-mindedly, not intending to stroke Alan's ego; but Alan wrapped his arms around Makoto and kissed him deeply. They eased themselves down onto the bed together, hands beginning to explore each other's bodies, and that took up several pleasing minutes of their time.

"I don't think we need to watch this stuff," Makoto murmured against Alan's lips.

"We don't _need_ it. But I like it," said Alan. He sat up, and Makoto bit back a moan at the sudden loss of contact - "I was watching this one earlier. I think you will like it." Alan returned to the computer and browsed through the site until he found a grainy video of two men on a sofa together. The quality of the footage wasn't great, but it was clear enough to see that they were at opposite ends of each other's bodies, enjoying mutual oral sex together.

A shudder ran through Makoto; of pleasure, revulsion or both, he wasn't sure. It looked like it could be very enjoyable, if somewhat impractical. He and Alan had never actually done this, in more than ten years as a couple. They had made one attempt that he could remember, when they were still young teenagers, and that had involved them both giggling too much to continue any further. He vaguely thought that "69" was a bit of a misnomer, given that the duo on screen didn't look much like a 69 shape. It was subjective, Makoto supposed - like art itself. One moment a number could be a 6; the next, it could shift into a 9. They fit together like yin and yang, opposites, yet complementing each other. A perfect fit. Makoto wanted to incorporate this nugget of wisdom into a future song, but had the feeling that doing that wouldn't exactly help him shake the label of pretentious.

It would only be pretentious if he wrote about something he hadn't actually tried. He kissed Alan, gently guiding them both down onto the bed.

"I knew you would enjoy this one," said Alan, in between kisses. The moans from the screen seemed to be having a positive effect on Makoto; his erection rapidly hardening, pressing insistently against his husband as Alan helped him out of his shirt.

"I'm going to write a song about this," Makoto murmured.

"You want us to suck each other's dicks so you can write a song about it?" Alan shrugged, "I don't think my father will let us release that one. Perhaps as a fan club exclusive."

"Not like _that_.  I meant -" Delicious friction ran through Makoto as Alan shifted slightly against him, "Never mind. Tell you later."

They shuffled their bodies on the bed, adjusting themselves until they were top and tail. Makoto propped himself up and looked across in Alan's direction, "Who's going to start?"

"Ideally, we should start at the same time. But I suppose that would require a lot of co-ordination, and it is the first time we've tried this." Alan thought for a moment and then said, "I'll start. You can join in when you feel ready."

Makoto began to object; the words dying in his throat as he felt his dick engulfed by the warm wetness of Alan's mouth. The moment of pleasure was so intense that his mind could not even begin to process the idea of trying to reciprocate. Alan had of course given him blowjobs before, yet, for some reason, this felt so much more intense than any other time they'd tried it before, "A-Alan. _Alan_."

"Yes?" Alan removed his mouth and glanced up. That at least let Makoto have enough mental clarity that he could focus enough to lower his mouth onto Alan's penis. Alan gave a high-pitched squeal that made Makoto jolt; Makoto paused for a moment, fearful of accidentally biting down or being too rough. It didn't seem to have done any harm, so he tried again, and within a short time Alan had recovered his senses and was reciprocating. While they couldn't quite manage to do it at the same time, they were able to fall into a rhythm of taking it in turns to stimulate each other with their mouths. It was pretty much impossible for Makoto to even attempt any kind of technique but Alan was making more than enough noise that he seemed to enjoy it. The sound went straight to Makoto's crotch, and he stiffened against Alan's gentle tongue. Makoto was so overwrought that he felt himself spurting rather more quickly than decorum permitted. In fact, so quickly that Alan didn't even have his mouth in place, and ended up receiving an unexpected facial.

By the time Makoto returned to his senses, Alan was sitting up, scrubbing at his face with a tissue - "Don't you want me to finish you off?" said Makoto.

"I have a photoshoot tomorrow, remember?" said Alan. "I can't afford to have clogged pores." He dumped the mess into a waste paper basket and smiled at Makoto, "It means a lot to me that you wanted to try out something new."

"Yeah ... sorry about your face," Makoto murmured, suffused with sheepishness.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not mad. We should make more time for stuff like this. It is an important way to maintain intimacy in our relationship." Alan kissed Makoto before heading off to the bathroom. He shortly returned with a clay mask on his face and sat at his vanity table to resume his skincare routine.

Makoto went to fetch the Moleskine diary that had been a joint birthday present from Alan and Kanon. He'd taken to using it as a record of his day, to reassure himself that he was spending his time well and ensure that he made his family a priority. 

_Good_

_Alan is happy that we tried something different._

_I am authentic and bold and not pretentious._

_New material for my next song._

_Bad_

_I need to stop "vanity Googling."_

_Danton. -- Notify Adonis, ask him to get his legal team on it._

_I came too fast on my husband's face_

He dropped the pen; any lingering good feelings rapidly evaporating. It seemed no sooner did Makoto resolve his insecurities in one area than they resurfaced somewhere else. It was maybe no surprise that the world saw him as emo, when fate was very rarely on his side.

 


	3. Back to Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ATM shoot the video for their next single and encounter a new adversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated, as always, to guava.
> 
> Here's to a new year and continuing another novel-length fic! This chapter is pretty much a filler but will set up for some more important developments down the line.

Makoto had had the good sense to marry the most wonderful man in the world, which was probably why Adonis already seemed keen on the idea of "Wonderland" being ATM's next single. That was agreed on fairly easily, which led on to more discussion about the marketing and what the video would look like.

"I think we should go for a sophisticated tone. Something with a little more artistic merit," said Alan. "’Poutylicious’ was a fun, party video. We want to show them that we can do something more serious and tasteful. I suggest basing the video on a classic novel like _Les Miserables_ or _Anna Karenina_."

"Those are kinda overdone," said Makoto, and then had an idea, "What about _Globovitch's Miseries?_ "

 _Globovitch's Miseries_ was what Makoto had been reading on and off for the past two years; partly due to lack of time and also because the book was so damn long. He was over 300 pages into the story, yet only barely halfway through. The book detailed the history of one Andrey Ilyanov Globovitch, dogged by peril and misfortune throughout his life. The plot was rather complicated to fit into a short music video, but Makoto was sure he could come up with something. The book contained an entire section (most of it related only tangentially to the main plot) about the Count Vassiliy's affair with Elena Fyodorovna, indirectly leading to the collapse of the entire Russian state. Makoto felt that both the romance, and the political turmoil, fit well with the mood of the song.

"What's that?" said Takeru.

"It's a classic Russian novel," said Alan. "I think it would work very well."

“It’s not very well known, is it? It might confuse people,” said Takeru.

“You don't have to be familiar with the story,” said Alan. “It will simply be an inspiration for the aesthetic of the video.”

Makoto had visions of himself angstily wandering around a derelict building; that was where it would have to be shot. He was absolutely determined to do justice to his favourite line in the song: _“If eyes are windows to the soul, yours belong in a derelict building that's just been vandalised again.”_ It was one of the best lines he had ever written for a song, or, indeed, that anyone had ever written for a song. So good, in fact, that the only chance of its ever being surpassed was in the song Makoto was currently writing; inspired by his recent night of passion with Alan. He was smitten by his own lyrical genius.

“Thank you for helping me release ‘Wonderland,’” he said, as he and Alan snuggled in bed that evening.

“It hasn’t been released yet. But it will be. You’re welcome,” said Alan.

Makoto took a moment to admire Alan’s poise and casual elegance. Alan wore a pair of green silk pyjamas which looked very, very good on him; his skin was smooth due to his bedtime routine, and he was sipping at a cup of herbal tea whilst reading an intellectual-looking arts magazine. His composure even when Makoto felt frazzled was, it had to be said, appealing - “What are you reading?” Makoto asked.

Alan indicated for Makoto to move closer so they could read it together. Alan was currently on an article about an anonymous British artist known as Wanksy, whose distinctive style of street art involved him spray-painting images of ejaculating penises onto walls and buildings. (“Wank”, the article politely explained for its Japanese audience, was a vulgar British term for masturbation.) Wanksy was now in Tokyo as part of his _Bollocks to Society!_ tour, which involved him giving talks at prestigious institutions and creating new, subversive artworks. A short quote was included on behalf of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, assuring the public that police would certainly be having words with Wanksy if any phallic graffiti should appear during his visit.

“How can he give talks if he’s anonymous?” said Makoto.

Alan indicated a further section of the page, “He insists on wearing a cardboard box on his head at all times when in public.”

“Weird,” said Makoto. There were some strange people about. His mind cast back to Danton for a moment.

***

The storyboard for the video featured Makoto as Globovitch, while Alan and Takeru would respectively take the roles of Elena Fyodorovna and Count Vassiliy. As Makoto had requested, most of his scenes would involve him walking around a dilapidated building; but in each room, he would find and interact with a different object representing the various tragedies that featured in the story’s plot. Alan’s scenes would show him sitting on a flower-bedecked garden swing and being pushed by Takeru.

“Is there an actual scene in the book like this?” said Makoto. He was pretty sure there wasn’t, even though there hadn’t read to the end of this particular subplot yet; it would be uncharacteristically upbeat for the novel. So far, the cheeriest thing the lovers had done together was visiting a slum to goggle at all the poor people.

“No,” said Alan. “It is symbolic of the joy and youthful innocence that Elena and the Count embody, compared to the older and more cynical Globovitch.”

“You’d be cynical too if you were Globovitch,” muttered Makoto.

“Don’t you think _you_ look more like a Count than I do?” Takeru asked Alan. “Maybe we should switch roles.”

“Certainly not. I fit the description of Elena far better than you. She is elegant and dignified, with golden hair, and so beautiful that she has had over fifty proposals of marriage,” said Alan. Makoto valued harmony in their relationship and therefore avoided pointing out that Elena was a young teenage girl whereas Alan was a man in his 30s.

The video was to be shot on location in a picturesque former gallery building, which was set to be demolished in the near future yet still in good enough condition that it wouldn’t collapse to the ground whilst they were trying to film there. It had been relatively cheap to hire the building but required a lot of red tape, “risk assessments”, and forms to fill out. Makoto was satisfied that it fit his artistic vision perfectly; which was why, on the morning of the shoot, alarm bells rang in his mind when Alan received a call from the set of the video.

“What was that about?” said Makoto, when Alan hung up.

“Nothing much.”

“Yes, it was. Something’s happened. Tell me,” Makoto insisted.

“He’s worried about a little incident at the building,” said Alan. “We can take care of it when we get there. Don’t worry. We’ll still be able to film.”

Makoto sighed. Alan, for all his many wonderful qualities, had a propensity to underestimate the scale of a disaster. He anticipated some kind of electrical fault or maybe the roof collapsing, since there had been a small earthquake the day before. Considering these possibilities didn’t prepare him for what actually happened when they arrived to find the entire building spray-painted all over with leaking dicks of various sizes.

“What happened?” said Takeru, his expression falling. He looked so forlorn that Makoto put an arm around him.

“Wanksy,” said Makoto, between gritted teeth. He resolved to have Adonis put pressure on the police until they subjected Wanksy to the full majesty of Japanese law.

“What?”

“I’ll explain later,” said Makoto. “But for now - what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to shoot the video, of course. We’re in _a derelict building that’s just been vandalised again_! Like the lyrics of our song. It’s perfect,” said Alan.

Makoto raised his eyebrows slightly. He wouldn’t have put it past Alan to personally contact Wanksy and ask him to spray-paint all over the building for added “authenticity.”

“We can’t,” said Takeru. “I mean … look at it.” He waved a hand to indicate the extent of the damage. There were very few surfaces that weren’t covered.

“Of course we can. I’m sure it can be edited -” said Alan, but was interrupted as the director approached and asked for a meeting about how to proceed.

The creative team concluded that while editing out every single penis in the video might prove time-consuming and difficult, they could at least be digitally altered into something more appropriate; such as “symbols of revolution” in keeping with the storyline.

“Symbols of revolution?” Takeru blinked. “Like what?”

“‘ _Lenin woz ‘ere?’_ ” suggested Makoto, still feeling bitter. Today was already going worse than the “Poutylicious” shoot, which, itself, hadn’t been great. The only good things this time around were that they weren’t shooting on a beach in the blazing heat; and that Adel wasn’t there. None of the de Ganma family had heard from Adel in almost a year - since Alan and Makoto’s wedding. Adel had gone on his purported trip around the Caribbean and not been in touch since, except to occasionally call Alia with cryptic instructions related to one or other of his businesses. Makoto didn’t suppose they would be lucky enough to never be troubled by him again, but at least the break was welcome.

Makoto’s costume, which looked like a potato sack, was incredibly itchy. He was forced to spend several hours in it as he wandered from room to room, doing things like picking up a clockwork toy and winding it, or placing his hand against a wall. Some scenes would have effects digitally added in afterwards; for instance, Makoto’s hand leaving an imprint in the concrete of the wall. He suspected that, whatever Adonis was paying the people who would edit the footage, it wasn’t enough. When his own scenes were finished he was allowed to go downstairs and watch Alan and Takeru set up in the garden.

“Can’t you push me a little higher?” Alan complained, adjusting the voluminous skirts of his dress. The overall effect of the costume put Makoto in mind of the love child of Mary Poppins and Goldilocks. It wasn't quite what Makoto had had in mind when he'd written "Wonderland" about his love for Alan - or, indeed, when he'd read the description of Elena Fyodorovna in the novel.

“The director says we’re not supposed to,” said Takeru, giving Alan another half-hearted little nudge.

“It’s very old. We borrowed it for this shoot. May I remind you that we’re already likely to exceed our budget given the extensive editing the footage will require,” said the director; sounding as thoroughly sick of today as Makoto felt.

“I insist on being pushed properly,” said Alan, lower lip edging forward as if he were the same age as Akari and Onari’s children.

Makoto added _buy the director a drink_ next to _get back at Wanksy_ on his mental to-do list.

***

Makoto woke the next morning to find Alan beside him with a pencil and sketchbook. Alan gave him a little kiss, “Good morning. I’ll make tea for us soon.”

“What’s that?” said Makoto, blinking his eyes open and trying to get his brain to make sense of things.

“I’m drawing you. You were in my dream.”

“Yeah? What happened?” said Makoto, not thinking too much of it. Alan often claimed to have dreams about Makoto, some of them in rather graphic detail.

“We had a huge fight,” said Alan. “You left me for good. You travelled all over the world and spent years walking the earth.”

“If I left, how do you know I was travelling?” said Makoto.

Alan shot him a withering glance.  “I know because it was a dream. It doesn't have to be realistic. Anyway, in the end you came back, but you were old now. You had muscles and shaggy hair. You were like a lumberjack or something. You know. Rugged. Manly.”

Makoto resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “If it was that long, you must have been old too. I’m sure you didn’t look so hot either.”

“I looked exactly the same as ever,” said Alan.

Of course he did. Makoto let it go and stretched out beside Alan. He was just about to get up for a shower and to prepare for the gym when Alan held up the sketchpad, “This is what you looked like.”

It took a moment or two for Makoto’s mind to fully register the image, “This isn’t funny, Alan.”

Alan frowned. His jaw set into the taut ine he adopted when he was trying to handle hurt feelings with dignity, “What’s wrong? It is you as you appeared in my dream.”

“That’s my father. You’re sure you didn’t dream about _him_?”

"I don’t know.” Alan put down the sketchpad, “Possibly, but I have never seen him.”

“You’ve never Googled a photo? Or, or Kanon hasn’t shown you?” said Makoto, knowing it was true enough that Alan had never met Fukami Daigo. Makoto had been eight years old when his father abandoned him; four years before Makoto met Alan. In all that time, Daigo hadn’t bothered to make contact with his children, despite several promises to visit - if they could manage to reach him.

“No," said Alan. He got up from the bed, “I think I will start breakfast. Would you like tea or coffee?”

“Coffee. Black, please,” said Makoto weakly; his appetite already gone. Although sadly not blessed with the "talents" of Danton, he just couldn't shake off the sinking feeling that this particular dream of Alan’s did not bode well.


End file.
